


reach into his vagina like a mirror

by scandalous



Series: self-recognition through the other [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Declarations Of Love, Devotion, Fingering, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Pretentiousness, Trans Hannibal Lecter, Trans Will Graham, t4t, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Will and Hannibal are both trans men. After the fall, Hannibal wants to worship a body like his own.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: self-recognition through the other [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881046
Comments: 26
Kudos: 147
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Prompt Table Challenge: Sexy and Kinky





	reach into his vagina like a mirror

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc's 100th special:** divine  
>  **sexy and kinky @ creativechallenges:** devotion
> 
> title from "[on the first time you fuck another trans guy](https://oleandervenzon.tumblr.com/post/179908414417/on-the-first-time-you-fuck-another-trans-guy-by)" by oleander venzon.
> 
> i am a nonbinary trans man, and i am largely t4t. this is a love letter to other trans men.
> 
> terms for their junk i use: cunt, dick, cock.
> 
> enjoy!

Will knows that Hannibal sees himself in him. This is just another thing that comes with that— the self-recognition through the other that comes with fucking another trans man, especially one their age. 

He's nervous, standing, unsure what to do as Hannibal starts to strip out of his clothes. He's so _confident_ — he admires that. There's a lot of things he admires in Hannibal, and his ability to be completely stealth, his ability to ooze masculine confidence may be one of them. Of course, he's always been comfortable in his own skin, just has had to hide said skin behind his fine-tailored person suit. But now it is off, left to dry in the sun like snakeskin.

(Of course, his status got publicized after his capture. He's a little angry about that, still— the way the media ran with it, with transphobic nonsense, talking about Hannibal's _female physique_ and how the _hormone treatment_ caused him to act the way he does. No, that's just Hannibal. The fact Hannibal is a man — and not even that much of a man, if that, as Hannibal's descriptions of his gender experience are anything to go by — has nothing to do with who he is as a person. But they don't see it as that.)

"Any specific places you wouldn't want to be touched?" Hannibal asks, voice light as he unbuttons his shirt. 

"Uh." He swallows. "None that come to mind, no. My only real limit is calling my dick a clit or such — it's a dick."

"Of course," Hannibal nods. "Any other terminology you are not comfortable with?"

"No." 

"You look tense," he says. "You don't need to undress just yet, dear boy. If you'd like to, I can show you some of my drawings that deal with this specific part of my identity."

Another thing Will admires from Hannibal is his artistic talent. From his photo-realistic drawings to his talent at making crime scenes look like an elevated form of art, something that people have yet to _understand_ — it's always been fascinating to him. He swallows and nods, follows his lead to the room in the house they're living in Hannibal has transformed into his studio.

He pulls through various compartments until he takes out a folder, opens it, rifles through its contents. He looks back at Will and gives him a smile.

"I fear it is a common theme among other transgender artists, but," Hannibal starts, "I have a few sketches of Michelangelo's David as a transgender man." What he shows him are more complete pieces than sketches, but he lets the misnomer go, because they are beautiful, full of detail. Some of the drawings have David look like the archetypal trans man— flat, scarred chest with a testosterone-induced dick and a vagina. Some others have other types of trans men in them— David with breasts, David having undergone metoidioplasty, David having undergone phalloplasty.

"They're beautiful," Will says. He keeps looking at the archetypal trans man ones; how he can see himself in them. "Any others?"

Hannibal swallows, rifles through the papers once again. "I have a few self-portraits," he replies. "Some are memories, some are from when I made them."

"Let me see," Will asks, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

What Hannibal shows him are just as stunning as the ones of Michelangelo's David. A younger Hannibal, wearing several layers of clothing to hide himself in; the aftermath of top surgery, with the drains and the tape; Hannibal's body as it stands now, body hair, scars, his dick, his cunt. He's gorgeous, both in life and in pencil. Then he stumbles upon the next drawing— Hannibal, cis. Hannibal, almost the same as he knows him, but different in clear, obvious ways. No scars over his pecs, and a soft penis dangling between his legs. It looks wrong.

"Did you draw that while dysphoric?" Will asks, before he can stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

"Yes," Hannibal says, voice almost strained. "I still get dysphoric sometimes. I should be over myself by now, but I hate having a vulva. Yet, the surgeries that are available right now aren't enough for my tastes."

"I'd like a dick, in theory," Will says. "But it's just… not the same as what you imagine. It's not… as functional. I hope someday, someone can figure out how they can make them more lifelike."

"I hope so, too." There's an unspoken part about how it'll be hard to get a referral for surgery even then, being on the run and whatnot, but they don't need to worry about that now.

Will bites the inside of his cheek, considers his next words. "Would you prefer I not touch your, uh, your front hole? If you'd like me to keep it anal, or Hell, not touch you at all, I am more than on board."

"I'd prefer to pay attention to you, first and foremost," he replies. "I am quite dysphoric about my front hole, as you've put it, on bad days. But today is a good day. That is why I propositioned you to take our… _relationship_ to the next step."

"And what are you like in your good days?" he presses gently.

Hannibal looks at him, gives him a small smile. "In a good day, I'll gladly get penetrated in my front hole. It is a good day, Will, but I want all the attention to go to _you_. Besides, we have not bought a strap-on yet."

"Do you want to buy one?" Will asks, wiggling his brows.

He tilts his head. "It'd be a pleasure to use it on you. Or for you to use it on me. But I believe we should leave my studio, first and foremost."

"We could fuck here," he offers.

"Absolutely not," Hannibal says. "That is for our thirtieth time together, not our first."

Will laughs softly. "That's fair. Let's go, then."

The quick walk back to the bedroom is quiet, like they are waiting for something to snap, for something to drive them into action. There isn't anything, though— nothing but silence, until they step into the bedroom and Will breaks.

He pulls Hannibal into a kiss, hungry and desperate.

He can't recall with certainty the last time he's slept with another trans man. He's not one to sleep around, and his partners have the horrible tendency to be cis. There was that one guy in college he tried to date by being the only other trans man he knew, but it didn't work out well. Now all he has is Hannibal — he has nothing in his life that isn't him. And he's just like him.

He nearly laughs, thinking about that. About how it rings true about so many things— how they are two sides of the same coin, the same bloodlust, the same experience with gender on a base level. _We're just alike._

Hannibal gasps into his mouth, immediately clinging onto Will's shirt, clawing at him with a desperation unlike himself. He loses himself, there, Will notices that— the way he lets go of all his base instincts to guard himself up, to build wall after wall after wall; all he has is his desire to take care of Will.

"Can I undress you?" he asks, voice ever so slightly hoarse.

"Yes," Will breathes out.

Hannibal's movements are careful, precise, the way he pops each button of his flannel shirt before pulling it off his frame, folding it afterward. He helps him pull off the shirt underneath, and then starts working at his jeans. The way he looks at him is akin to the one of a devoted follower.

_You found religion. Nothing more dangerous than that._

Will's breath catches in his throat.

"Everything alright?" Hannibal asks as he fiddles with the zipper with one hand, the other running circles on his side comfortingly.

"Yes." He swallows around the lump in his throat. "Just… overwhelmed. It has been a while since the last time I slept with someone like me. Someone like us."

Hannibal swallows, looks away for a second as he starts to pull Will's pants down. "I have never shared a bed with someone like us, I must admit," he says.

"You'll figure it out," he says. He lets out a little laugh. It feels weird, to be more experienced than Hannibal at something. "It's okay, Hannibal."

"I know." He finishes pulling Will's pants down and off, to then work at his boxers. He stares for a second, at his engorged dick, the thick dark hair around his opening. He licks his lips, almost as an afterthought, like his mouth waters at the sight. "Lay down on the bed for me. I would like to finger you, if that is alright."

"Of course," he says. He lays down on the bed, spreads his legs. "You'll need lube, I believe."

"I know of the side-effects of testosterone, Will," Hannibal says lightly as he reaches for the nightstand, opening one of its shelves and grabbing a bottle of lube. He hums. "I do not share that side-effect, though. Quite the contrary effect, in fact."

"So you're dripping wet right now?" Will teases.

He flushes a faint shade of pink. "This is about you, not about me."

"That's a yes." He laughs. "It's okay, dear. I'll convince you to let me eat you out later."

"Of course."

Hannibal dribbles some lube into his fingers as he reaches forward, spreading Will's legs a bit more. Will can't help but look at him, at the scars along his torso— old, almost invisible, but still there. A reminder of what he's gone through to get to this point of masculinity. Will has the same thing along his chest. They are the same.

It's a little asphyxiating, to sleep with someone who _gets_ it. That boyfriend in college must've felt the exact same way as it does now, but he can't quite remember.

Hannibal presses a finger against his opening, sucking in a breath as he looks up at him. "You are breathtaking," he says.

"You, as well."

He pushes his finger in and he moans softly, tilting his head back as he starts making a place inside his cunt. It takes a while, every movement of Hannibal's precise and all too careful, like he's terrified of hurting him. He shouldn't be. He has scars for many lifetimes, all because of him. He doesn't need to worry about a few more. They won't make a difference.

Three fingers in, Hannibal looks up at him. His eyes are misty with tears as he leans forward to kiss him.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too," Will says, smiling slightly. "You act like you're devoted to me," he comments. "So focused on me."

"I _am_ devoted to you, Will," Hannibal tells him, without missing a beat. He leans down and starts pressing kisses along his torso— from his throat to the inner ends of both his scars, down to his belly until he ends up at his dick. This, he doesn't kiss; he wraps his mouth around it and sucks on it briefly, making his eyes roll back and his hips buck up. He pulls off and lets out a laugh. "I am simply your follower. I want to _worship_ you, my love, as you deserve."

Something about that makes him feel _seen_ , on a scale he has never felt before. He swallows and looks away, breaks eye contact. "Okay," he says. "Worship me, then."

"Of course," Hannibal says. He doesn't look at him, but he sounds like he's smiling.

He crooks his fingers inside him, in a come-hither motion, looking for that bundle of nerves, pushing further as he leans down to start sucking his dick. He's careful, aware that it's more sensitive than the average one, licking up at the hood gently.

"Hannibal," Will moans.

There is devotion here, dripping out of Hannibal's mouth like honey, like salvation. As he pushes in, moves his fingers just right, hitting his g-spot— this is nothing but worship of their very own kind of man. They are who they are. There is nothing to do to change that, except celebrate it, with Hannibal's fingers inside him, caressing— Hannibal's mouth wrapped around him, drooling over his cock.

He's dizzy on it. He moans as Hannibal finds just the spot to make him see stars, whining softly as he squirms on the bed. He's so desperate for it, to be _worshipped_ like he is being right now, in a way he would've never realized until Hannibal looked at him the way he did mere minutes ago.

It's love. It's devotion. It's so much; he's so full of it, like he is going to flood everywhere, like an oil spill. 

He whimpers, squirms against Hannibal's touch, the way his hands run through his coarse leg hair, the way he grips at his hip, squeezes affirmingly. Like he knows just how overwhelming this is.

He _will_ know, soon. He's going to make sure of it.

"Hannibal," Will gasps out.

Hannibal keeps at it, gentle licks over his dick, his fingers moving in all the right places inside him.

"Hannibal — I can't, I'm gonna… I'm gonna come, Hannibal—"

He offers him no response, which he imagines is a _come for me_. He gasps and cries out when Hannibal sucks harder, mouth wrapped tight around his dick; before he knows it he's orgasming, eyes rolling back into their sockets as he squirms, hips bucking up against Hannibal's face, moaning and whimpering as he does so.

Hannibal sucks him off through his climax before pulling his mouth off his cock, to then pull his fingers out. Without, seemingly, a second thought, he takes his fingers to his mouth, cleaning them off.

"You are beautiful, Will," he says, as soon as he pops his own fingers out of his mouth. "Absolutely breathtaking." He leans forward, closer, tilts Will's head back and captures his lips onto a kiss. "I wish I could spend the rest of my life here, giving you all you deserve."

"You can do that." Will says, drunk off his orgasm, slurring his words together ever so slightly. "You can do that. Just not necessarily in a sexual context. You could give me all I need for the rest of our days."

Hannibal takes one of his hands in his own, leans down to press a kiss to his knuckles as he looks up at him. "Of course, Will. You know I will. Don't you?"

Right then and there, Will has never in his life felt more divine. He feels more like a higher being than anything else. It's an addicting feeling, Hannibal worshipping him, treating him like something _better than_. It's holy.

"I know," he replies. He blinks back tears and pulls him into another kiss. "i love you."

"I love you too." Hannibal swallows. "Do you wish to go again? I could go on all night, like this."

"I want to worship you as well," he replies. "Of course, if you don't want to, that is okay with me, Hannibal, but it feels selfish to not reciprocate this attention. It's a little asphyxiating, to receive it all myself."

"Allow yourself to be selfish, my love," Hannibal says. "We have all night. You can return my affections tomorrow night."

"That sounds good to me." A pause. "I am just as devoted to you as you are to me. I need you to know that."

He nods, although he looks almost surprised by that. He doesn't say anything about that. "I do know. You can show me tomorrow. Let me taste you, now."

Will pulls him into another kiss. 

He knows he has never feel as loved as he does right now, as Hannibal settles between his legs and presses his tongue flat against his entrance. 

Even so — he knows it will only get better from now on. That their devotion to each other will only grow in size, each passing day of the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> i am very proud of this piece.
> 
> please kudo and/or comment if you liked reading this!


End file.
